


You Were Never Lovelier

by Missy



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (1991)
Genre: Anniversary, Dancing, F/M, Fade to Black, Family, Future Fic, Relationship Discussions, Romance, Tango, Yuletide Madness 2015, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their anniversary, the children are off thriving in the world, and she's never looked lovelier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Never Lovelier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UrbanAmazon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrbanAmazon/gifts).



It was their anniversary. That alone demanded special attention and Gomez had spared no expense on the evening meal….nor the act afterward. He simply could not stop praising his wife, whose teasing responses set his pulse ablaze. 

Afterwards they found themselves drifting toward the solar. It was a muggy, foggy night – perfect for a haunting in Morticia’s opinion. He stared at her as if she were an angel incarnate...or perhaps a very fetching demon. “It’s been forty years and you’re still stunning.” Taking a deep drought from his glass of wine, Gomez Addams took his wife’s pale, smooth hand in his grip and kissed it passionately. “How do you do it, beloved?”

“Oh, the typical treatments any girl uses. Mud masks, blood baths…sipping the souls of my tormented rivals.” 

“Enchanting,” Gomez declared, holding on to her hand even as she relaxed into his grip.

“Have you heard from the children?” she asked. “It’s nearly been a week, Wednesday is usually much more punctual with her letters than this.”

“Ah, don’t worry about them, cara. They’re at that age where parental approval means less, and the attention of the police means more…”

“Well, we did encourage her to have a bloody good time in Transylvania. I hope she’s taking us literally.”

“Backpacking across the continent adding to her bat collection? I’m sure she’s in heaven. Her mother’s daughter after all, every inch of her - I’m sure she’ll knock them dead.”

“And give them something to write to their coroners about.”

“Speaking of, how is Pugsley’s apprenticeship going?” wondered Gomez. “He told me that he’s tops in his embalming class.”

“He is, but I’m afraid he’s flunking make-up. Mister Boddy’s concerned that he’s not putting enough of himself into the job. Though I must admit, that boy couldn’t be more into his job if he sewed himself into a corpse.” She raised an eyebrow. “That might be an idea…”

“We should leave the children be, darling. Let them make their own choices!”

“Of course,” said Morticia. “We must give them space to grow and become their own ghoulish selves without any further molding from us!”

“Yes, leave them to chisel away at their own enemies – though I suppose we could always offer them each a hand if they need any bodies buried,” said Gomez.

“We’ll put them next to Uncle Wilbur in the solarium. Pubert, by the way, sent his regards the other side of the world the other evening via messenger raven. Apparently permanent midnight suits him well.”

“As it should. And he was afraid he’d get a tan!” Gomez smiled. “Hopefully It’ll build the boys’ character up. Every gentleman needs a little seasoning before he returns to claim his proper legacy.”

“The Addams legacy,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue like sweet poison. “We’ve added handsomely to that, haven’t we?”

“Three rotten apples growing on a thorny branch,” he smiled. “They’re perfect.”

She toasted him playfully. “May they make us miserable for many years more.” 

They drank and then she reached for the arm of their record player. The sweet melancholy strains of their song filled the air.

“Mendelssohn!” he said. “You remembered.”

“I’ll never forget.” She replied, and pulled him to his feet. “Dance with me.”

It was no request. Gomez’ hands found his wife’s waist and they automatically joined forces in an energetic tango. 

All the while he marveled at her strength of form, her brilliant, glittering cold eyes, her intensity. She was unchanged from the woman he’d first met and courted at that long-ago funeral – no, he corrected himself, she was even more stunning, the epitome of womanly elegance, ripened to perfection.

And Morticia, too, thought of her husband in the most glowing, complimentary terms; thought he was as dashing, as chivalrous, as brilliant and as wonderful as he was when she first spied him beside the casket. He seemed, in fact, only to be ripening into handsome perfection, like an exquisite corpse. She only hoped they would have eternity together. If not she’d have to learn taxidermy, for no man would ever darken her doorstep after the perfection of Gomez had brought sweet hailstorms into her life.

When the dance concluded he swept her off he feet, indulging in a sweet, deep kiss. There would be time later to worry about the children, and the world outside. For now the entire universe had shrunken to the solar, to the bittersweet caress of their lover’s lips and the glorious sound of their agonized sighs of pleasure.

The embrace was warm enough to embarrass Thing and send him wandering back to the safety of the inner manse. So many years later and the two of them still had so much passion to give.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide!


End file.
